


Lost and Found

by parasitoidEntomologist (Dwinarnith), tortoiseshellKelpie



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bipolar Disorder, Car Accidents, Doctor Who References, Humanstuck, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Necromancy, Partial Nudity, Supernatural Elements, Triggers, Violence, manic depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dwinarnith/pseuds/parasitoidEntomologist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tortoiseshellKelpie/pseuds/tortoiseshellKelpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story starts when your protagonist drives down the wrong street. -Karkat<br/>Another character is a necromancer who is incredibly charming. -Sollux</p><p>Karkat hits a minion that Sollux just brought back to life while driving around lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Service

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops! TK and I are at it again! 
> 
> The unfinished stories are still on the "to do" list but for now we thought we'd have a little SolKat!  
> The tags will change as we add characters and content. 
> 
> And of course there's No Service Karkat. That would be too easy! <3
> 
> (PS: the next chapter is done and being edited!)

The story starts when your protagonist drives down the wrong street. -Karkat

Another character is a necromancer who is incredibly charming. -Sollux

 

Karkat hits a minion that Sollux just brought back to life while driving around lost.

\---

 

You stare out the windshield at the dreary landscape around you. Grey house after grey house pass you by, and you don’t recognize a single one of them. You haven’t recognized a single house, street sign, or tree for over half an hour at this point. Great. Just fucking fantastic. It is time to call it. You are lost. Totally and inexplicably lost. Pulling out your phone you stare at the little screen. No service.

 

“For fuck’s sake!” You throw the cell at the passenger seat. “Fucking piece of shit...”

 

You pull the car to the side of the road. Perhaps you have a map in the glove compartment and could find out where the hell you are. Clicking the compartment open you rummage through the loose pieces of paper. Your fingers grasp at the thicker paper of the map and you quickly unfold it. Looking out the window you read the street sign just ahead of you.

 

Farland Dr. and Keeve St.

 

It takes a good minute of searching but you finally find the intersection on the map. _Thank God!_ You aren’t very far from the main road. It’s only a few blocks from where you are currently sitting. Hastily you pull back out and drive in the right direction. Glad to find your way out of the seemingly abandoned neighborhood. But after the first two blocks you come across a barricade.

 

Road closed.

 

God damit. You make the only available turn and grab the map again, pulling it up onto the steering wheel you try to find a detour route. You take your eyes off of the road for all of five seconds when your car makes contact with some object.

 

“Holy shit!!!” You slam on the brakes and look out at the hood of your car. A man’s body lays splayed across the dark paint. Opening the door you step out onto the asphalt.

 

“Holy shit! Are you alright? Sir?... Sir?!?!!”

 

The man looks to be a hobo. His cloths are covered in dirt and grime. You can smell the filth of him as you rush over to see if you will be charged for involuntary manslaughter or not. You know it’s a horrible way to look at things, and you should probably be more concerned with the fact that you may have just killed someone, but you just got the life you wanted and ‘easy come easy go’ is not a thing that can happen. As you draw near, your throat sinks to the pit of your stomach. Shit. The man’s torso is.... not attached to his pelvis. OH HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCK YOU’RE GOING TO ROT IN PRISON! HOW... HOW DID YOUR CAR EVEN DO THIS? You run your hands nervously through your thick hair. Fuck what are you going to do?

 

Footsteps run up behind you followed by panting and you jump at the sudden presence. Oh fuck there’s a witness!

 

“Oh for the love of Hadeth!”

 

A young man is suddenly beside you with wide eyes, leaning over the man you just hit. He’s wearing a dark blue shirt  with dirt stains matching the mutilated man on the ground. Do they know each other? The legs of his jeans are hidden as he kneels down and his beige trench coat bunches on the ground beneath him. He turns hateful eyes onto you.

 

“What have you done?” He hisses.

 

“I didn’t see him! I looked down at my map for all of three seconds and there he was! I swear to god that it was an accident! I... I... Fuck!” Your hands move to cover your face. 

 

He grabs you by the collar and drags you to your feet, forcing you to drop your hands. He pulls you to him within an inch of his face. This close, his visage looks terrifying. He has a wane face with elongated features. Slight fangs are peaking out at the edges of his frowning lips. His slanted, glaring eyes are almost glinting with fury. They are a light crystalline blue, like cold ice. You gasp as the dim street light catches his right eye and you realize that your previous observation was wrong- very wrong. One of his eyes is a bright, bloody red, pupiless.

 

He growls at you.

 

“You little thit.” His tone is deadly despite the lisp. “Now I have to thtart over. I thpent all night with thith one and it wath my latht athignment before my promotion. I only needed thith one goul and _YOU KILLED IT!!!_ ” He shouts in your face.

 

“Oh god! I didn’t... Don’t hurt me!” You raise your hands. “It was an accident!”

 

His grip tightens and he shakes you once, jerking you around for emphasis.

 

“I don’t give a fuck _what_ it wath! You owe me a ghoul or your life tho pay up!”

 

“What?!” You look from the man in your face back down at the one on your car.

 

The body’s legs slide onto the ground with a thud. Dark globs of some substance splatter onto the road around them and you feel like throwing up. The man throws you to the ground in disgust and goes to inspect the body again. He prods at it with a long finger, swearing under his breath. This isn’t making any sense to you. What was he talking about? Where the hell are you?

 

You try to fight the rising panic in your chest as the man turns his attention back on you.

 

“Well?” He stands and walks around to the open door on the driver’s side and slams it hard, shaking the car. He waits for you to answer with growing impatience. You look around with a dry mouth, not even able to stammer out the confusion and shock swirling around in your brain. He growls again in frustration. 

 

“Get up.”

 

Somehow you manage to find your feet and comply to the demand.

 

“Sir I... Look I’m lost. I have no idea how I got here. I was just trying to find my way back to the main road. I don’t know what you were doing with that man, but I swear I won’t say anything! Just let me go.”

 

He laughs darkly and shakes his head.

 

“Let you _go_? I think what you thould be doing ith _begging_ for me to let you _live_. Your life belongth to me until you repay your debt or I decide to kill you. You don’t thcrew over a necromancer and expect to walk off thcotch free.” He crosses his arms and eyes you.

 

You feel your own eyes go wide.

 

“A what?”

 

“A nec-ro-man-cer.” He emphasises each syllable. “You know, raither of the dead? Ath in the ghoul you jutht ran over with your car?” He quirks an accusative brow at you.

 

You can feel your jaw drop. Vaguely you recall one of your old friends, who had been into the whole magic scene, talked about necromancy. You thought it was all for his stupid game, but looking back at the body you guess that it wasn’t. The panic in your chest begins to rise and suddenly your heart is in your throat. The thought that comes to you comes out of nowhere and despite some nagging sensation in the back of your mind, you turn and run... but you don’t get far. No more than a few steps to be completely accurate.

 

The guy grabs you by the back of your shirt and tosses you back against the hood of your car, his hand still gripping your shirt. You are laying next to the open mouthed head of his ruined ghoul, your face pressed into the warm metal of the running vehicle.

 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asks flatly. “What’th your name?”

 

“V-v-vantas... It’s Karkat Vantas.” You shut your eyes and try to cringe away from the corpse. The smell of rotting flesh is overwhelming from this close. Some small part of your brain begins to wonder why you hadn’t smelled the body when you first got out of your car, although the man hissing in your ear takes precedence over your thoughts. 

 

“Okay Karkat, kith the ghoul.” He points to the dead body.

 

He has to be kidding. There is no fucking way that you are going to put your mouth on that thing. You crack open your eyes and look up to find that red eye staring down at you. His face is serious, albeit a little amused.

 

“Kith him and thay you’re thorry.” He shoves you a little closer with a toothy fanged grin. “Do it.”

 

You screw your eyes shut as you find yourself right next to the thing’s face. You try to fight off the urge to vomit from the stench and you don’t make any movement to do as you’re told. However, the man manages to convince you when he lifts you up and slams your chest back down on the hood. Despite your best efforts you whimper a little from the shock. Pursing your lips, you lean until your mouth makes contact with something cool and musty. Instantly you recoil from the corpse and try to spit the taste of it from your lips.

 

“Good.” He laughs. “Now tell him thorry.”

 

“I-I’m s-sorry.” You stammer.

 

He picks you up slightly and holds you at an uncomfortable angle, leaning over to be head level with you. You can feel his breath on your ear.

 

“Alright Karkat, thith ith how it’th gonna go. Your life ith mine and you don’t get a choice until you repay your debt. From now on, I’m your mathter. And if you dithpleathe me, I’ll kill you. Got it?”

 

Nodding you murmur a quiet “Yes.” Still too afraid to open your eyes.

 

He lets go of you and walks around to the drivers side door opening it and reaching inside. He emerges with your keys and pockets them. Oh god. He really was intent on keeping you around. You don’t think you’re ever going to make it to John’s house. Fuck him for giving you those shitty directions in the first place.

 

“Do you have anything of value in the car? If tho, grab your thit cauthe we’re leaving.”

 

Your mind races. What did you have? Your phone, a map, and some shitty CD’s. Most of your stuff was still packed away in boxes at your apartment, you haven’t had the time to even unpack yet. There were some legal documents in the glove compartment, but what good are those going to do you now? You decide that your best bet it to just take the phone and the map, they’re the only two things you can think of that might help you escape the madman... if you ever got the chance. The pit your stomach ties in a knot and you get the feeling that you can’t count on getting such an opportunity. Running to the passenger side, you reach in and grab the items anyways. Better to have them and not need them than to need them and not have them.

 

The tall man watches you close the door and quirks a brow, wondering if you are satisfied with your recovery. But he doesn’t give you time to answer or even collect your thoughts. He turns his back to you and drops down into a crouch. What the fuck is this psychopath doing? You lean to the side to get a better view. He’s drawing something on the ground with some kind of... sidewalk chalk. He’s drawing on the ground with pink fucking crayola sidewalk chalk.

 

You squint, trying to get a better look at the symbol. It looks to be some kind of pyramidal diagram. Strange runic letters circle around it. As he writes the last of the letter, the entire image starts to glow. He sheaths the chalk and stands up, examining his work. The light intensifies with a sudden burst and the image vanishes, leaving a faintly glowing man sized hole of magenta umber on the asphalt. He turns back to you. 

 

“Get in.” He jerks his head back to the hole.

 

You don’t hesitate to approach, but as soon as you’re within an arms length of the hole you stop. Cautiously you peer through the entrance and see nothing. The hole goes down about a foot and then is consumed by complete darkness. The closer you lean towards it, the more you can feel a sort of gravitational pull, almost as if it were some kind of black hole in space. Well it was a black hole... in the ground. You feel slightly idiotic for making such a comment, considering your situation.

 

“Before we’re potht mortem Vantath.”

 

The necromancer huffs impatiently and knocks you over with a shove. You gasp as the hole expands in your vision and you fall head first into it. All the rollercoasters in the world had nothing on this feeling. You close your eyes and scream as you tumble further and further into the abysmal opening. This goes on for several minutes before you realize that the feeling has gone as soon as it came and you were no longer falling, but resting on your back, looking up at a magenta sky. What the fuck just happened?

 

“Welcome back princeth. Did you have a nice nap?”

 

Your eyes shift to the side and you can see the necromancer kneeling over you.

 

“I... Wha... What the _fuck_ was that?!” 

 

He sighs looking bored.

 

“A portal.”

 

Your mind struggles to catch up to you. _A portal, a ghoul, and a necromancer..._ What the fuck are you dealing with? So many questions fight for dominance in your mind and after a moment, you settle on one.

 

“Who the hell are you?”

 

He stands up, stretching lazily with his lanky arms extended out above his head.

 

“Tholluxander Ovidiuth Captor, Necromancer thecond clath of the Collegiate Order of Divination.” He smirks and shrugs, having finished with his stretching. “Not that it matterth to you. Ath far ath you’re concerned, I’m jutht the Mathter.” 


	2. Intermission 1: Gates of Infernae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aradia gets a chapter from her POV where we see her introduced and get a glimpse into her powers. It means something later we promise.

Sollux Captor is walking up the marbled gate steps just as the world becomes clear again. It always goes a bit fuzzy when you commune with the dead, but that’s okay. Or rather, at least you are okay with it. He has abnormal attire on, which worries you. Sure he’s wearing his trench coat, but he’s exchanged his regular ochre collared shirt with a brown pinstriped vest for a plain navy V-neck. And where were his comedic glasses? This was a very troubling sight indeed. You opened your mouth to call out to him, but the spirit you had been channeling earlier was suddenly within you and you began babbling, mixing her nonsense with your own…

You can feel it building up, rising. Like something inside of you tickles/feels good but hurts in a surprising way, like peeing after sex or arousal. It’s like something inside you is too confused to go on, so it solidifies and stops you dead in your tracks even though your brain tells you to keep moving. The brain doesn’t offer an explanation as to why you should, it just instinctually knows that moving is somehow best, even though your heart wants to stay in place. And torn between the good and not good, but not knowing which side has what title, you cry.

 

 Confused. 

 

The aching wants to cry out, also torn. But it doesn’t. It stays silent because your brain tells it no, crying out would be bad. It would bring trouble, danger even. Things you do not want, perhaps even more confusion. But the aching continues to lung out inside of you, silently locked away, hidden. Hoping you finally crack and let it spill the contents of your most embarrassing guts out onto the floor. You pause, acknowledging that there was probably a better way to word that, but then decide you don’t care enough to go back and correct yourself.

And so, you drop all thought too troubling or confusing to think about now in favor of just enjoying the sight of him. Because you love him. He makes you happy and sometimes he makes you numb, which also makes you happy. Or at least you think it does. Perhaps it doesn’t though… you often find yourself questioning what happiness really is. Before you can continue, you stop that philosophical train of thought in its tracks and open your eyes, forcing the spirit of Feferi out.

How rude of her to just use you like that! You understand that she wanted to see him too, but it’s not like you can help her date him now anyways. Sollux was alive and she was dead and that was all there was to it. You know she was your friend in life and is still your friend in death but the only way to really help is to kill him. Maybe someday you will, perhaps for her birthday, but you certainly aren’t doing anything like that now. You shake off the sudden attack and go up to him, finally making yourself known.

 

“Hello Sollux. It is nice to see you.” You feel yourself smiling. It is nice to see him, but you don’t understand the reaction of joy on your face. Perhaps you aren’t meant to. Someone told you once that smiling used fewer muscles in your face and was therefore more natural than frowning. And whether or not their logic is correct, it still applies well to your current thoughts. Or does it? You almost ask this troubling thing aloud but other words from someone else’s mouth fill the air around you and push you into respective silence.

“Hello Aradia.”

The speaker is Sollux. Of course it is. You just said hello to him. His tone is polite but not in the mannered sense. It’s casual in a familiar way that signals to you he considers you a friend. He may not think so, or perhaps he does, but you honestly couldn’t say either way. It was hard to tell with Sollux and his bipolarity. It’s a shame he wasn’t more like you. Then again, if he was more like you, there wouldn’t be a need for you anymore. In that respect, you suppose you’re glad he isn’t.

“Thank you for not being me.”

Your words hold more weight than you mean them to, but you say them all the same. Looking back, you actually didn’t mean to say them at all, but some part of you must have because Sollux is raising a slender brow at you in acknowledgement of your statement. This reaction causes you to giggle. You don’t know why, but you like it. It feels nice to feel anything, especially joy, if that’s what this is. You would like to think so.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you, offering no further explanation to your confusion. And you resolve that’s for the best. You like to think he is genuinely happy to see you, or that you make him happy. At the least he is slightly amused by you. His smile doesn’t seem fake, whatever motive lies behind it, and you choose to accept the unexplainable for the bliss or ignorance that it is.  

You notice there is someone behind him, someone new. He is much smaller than your maybe friend and looks to be rather frightened and perhaps a bit taken aback by something. Maybe he’s ill? Being a shaman you wouldn’t know about such things, but whatever his trouble you’re sure Sollux knows someone else who can handle it. He’s always so confident and that too makes you feel something. It’s slightly different from happy but you don’t have a word for it yet. Maybe you’re proud of him? That doesn’t fit right either but happy-proud is the best you can do at the moment. You should apologize to the stranger for your inexperience. It’s the least you can do.

“Excuse me.” You tell Sollux and smile at his male acquaintance as wide as you can. He seems to cringe away from you. Did you speak out of turn? Failing to make him feel better probably doesn’t matter if you failed to help him any in the first place. You are probably doomed to always make whatever is bothering him worse. Oh well. A part of you likes that idea. It sounds fun and exciting and rather amusing. So, you decide to continue making things worse. You don’t apologize. You tell him the first thing that comes to mind, still smiling.

“I cannot help you and I find that exciting!”

His face screws up into an odd emotion you’ve never quite seen before. It makes you feel… surprised? Shocked? Embarrassed? Oh yes! You are embarrassed! How exhilarating! This is definitely a facial expression that warrants more careful study. You take out the canon digital camera tucked always in your left bra cup and hastily snap a picture of him. And observe the tiny image with glee as it appears on the plasmid screen. You tuck the instrument away with an odd sense of satisfaction and congratulate yourself, almost forgetting your manners. But you don’t forget.

You instead bow to him in gratitude, as custom ordains, and then you smile and wave goodbye to Sollux, turning quickly to find your favorite friend. You want to show her this new emotion before you add it to your collection. Perhaps she’ll have another picture of Sollux to trade for it. If she does, especially if it’s a shirtless one, you know the face of this new man won’t make it into your scrapbook. Oh well. Trading is more fun anyways.


	3. The House of Captor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well someone cleans up nice. <3

Watching the strange girl walk away from you, you feel almost like you have been slapped in the face. She said that she couldn’t help you, and then took a picture of your stupid face. The hopelessness in your chest returns as she walks off. She wouldn’t help you and was fucking _excited_ about it. You can feel your eyes start to water. _Damit Karkat you will not cry._ You are a fucking grown man who has just had his life threatened and was then whisked away to god knows where. You will not cry. Despite the internal pep-talk you still sniffle like a child and the icy eye glances indifferently in your direction, which is enough for you to make a conscious effort to stop. 

 

“Ith thomething wrong?” 

 

His change in tone with you makes your chest flip with hope. He actually sounds concerned, despite the coldness behind his eyes.

 

“No sir.” You run the sleeve of your shirt over your eyes in an attempt to dry them. “It’s nothing.”

 

His face hardens with annoyance.

 

“Thtop calling me thir. My title ith the Mathter.” He snaps at you, still not fully turning back to see make eye contact.

 

“Sorry...” You look down at the ground. “M-master.”

 

The word feels strange on your tongue, heavy and bitter with the emotions it brings. You sniffle one final time and find the will to stop the idiotic behavior. Crying isn’t going to get you out of this. If anything it would make it worse and draw more unwanted attention to yourself.

 

He smirks at you, his features returning to their lucid state, and turns back to the direction of the terrifying girl. You can hear your keys jingling in his pocket as he twiddles his fingers. The sound makes you anxious but you try to not let it show. He exhales deeply and rolls his head, cracking his neck and shoulders.

 

“I forgive you.” His tone is light and matter-of-factly. “Tho tell me, what’th wrong with you?” He remains looking away, attention seemingly focused on the stairs ahead as if your presence meant little to him, but you can feel the weight of his words on you. He sounded like he really wanted an answer- like he would not appreciate you dicking around the bush with it.

 

“Despair is a common thing for a person to feel when they are put in a situation such as this... Master... I’m not exactly filled with the hope that things will turn in my favor.”

 

He shrugs in a lackadaisical demeanor which seems to be the norm for him. His head whips around lazily to look you in the eyes and a strand of honey blond hair falls over his eye. He puffs it out of the way before gracing you with his opinion.

 

“The oddth of thingth going in your favor are relatively low.” He agrees. “But not impothible. You’ll jutht have to pay me back before I kill you.” He gives you a suggestive smile, but it’s a little beyond mischievous. It’s almost coy.

 

The change in his attitude has you confused. Not even an hour ago he was spitting threats in your ear and now he was smiling at you. You can feel the surprise on your face and look down at your feet in some sorry attempt to make yourself invisible. People don’t act charming in your presence and it doesn’t make sense for your captor, of all people, to even remotely treat like you like what you have to say holds any weight in a conversation.

 

“Thtop doing that.” He chuckles. “I appreciate that you’re afraid of me- and I thuppothe you thould be- but I’d prefer you at leatht act normal. Jutht relax.” He winks at you.

 

 _Relax?!!_ How the fuck does he expect you to ‘just relax’ in this situation? As previously stated you are god knows where, with god knows who, and there is a strong possibility that you are going to fucking die. And how dare he have the audacity to wink at you! Like he thinks this is a motherfucking game or some shit. This is quickly becoming ridiculous and if you weren’t terrified yelling would piss him off again... let’s just say you have a few choice words for him.

 

You clench and unclench your fists, taking in a deep breath to calm yourself and settle your nerves. Looking back up, you murmur another apology.

 

“You know, I’m trying to be nice here.” He points out with a sigh, like he feels you’re hopeless. “Thingth would be a lot eathier for you if you’d jutht lithten to me the firtht time.” He lifts his arms up on either side with a sweeping motion as if to say “have at me”. “Can’t let you go even if I wanted to- which I don’t- Thing’th work differently around here. You either die for your crime or pay me back. I don’t make the ruleth.” He lets his arms drop to his sides with a loud slap, a defeated gesture.

 

“I get it.” You let your shoulders droop, but keep your eyes forward. “I’ll try to be more diligent in the future.”

 

He huffs and gives you a look that says he thinks you’re an idiot.

 

“Well, I’m not taking you with me to report in like thith. You look like thomething a hith beatht dragged in.” He laughs abruptly and it’s so light hearted and T.V.-esque, you wonder if this is even the same guy who kidnapped you. “Actually, I bet we both do. How do I look? Bad?” He turns around in a slow circle to let you examine every inch of him.

 

Is this some kind of trick question? You feel like it is... but you also get the sense that honesty is important. Your mind bounces between the two before your rashness decides to step in and the question for you.

 

“I thought you were a hobo when you first jumped me. Master.” You throw the last word in for good measure and almost regret saying anything at all.

 

He laughs again, still in a smiling mood.

 

“Really? That’s not exactly complimentary. I gueth we thould go change firtht. I need to get thith blood off me anywayth. What do you think? Thould we walk or be lazy? My place ith a good five blockth from here.”

 

Confusion returns to its rightful place on your brow.

 

“I would be lying if I even remotely pretended that I knew what you were insinuating.” 

 

His smile drops a little, but it’s still patronizingly light as he explains himself.

 

“Well, we could walk _or_ we could port there, thuth being lazy.” He shrugs.

 

You shrug in turn, trying to mimic his nonchalant nature. “If we’re in a hurry I would suggest the faster method of travel. But, if time is not an issue you could show me the city.” You know you don’t pull the cool demeanor quite as well as he does, but you hope keeping your cool will help you stay on his good side.

 

He winces, shutting his blue eye.

 

“Let’th port then. You can thee the city on the way back. I’m a lazy fuck anywayth.” He gives you a weak smile before the good mood falls from his face completely. He pulls a teal cylinder out of an inside pocket and holds it out to you. You take it and stare at him stupidly. He points to the marble beneath your feet. “Jutht make a circle and write ‘domum redire’ above it.”

 

You kneel down on the cool ground, using one hand to help support your weight. You draw a plain circle just a little smaller than the hole you were so kindly pushed into to get here. Pausing you try to sound out the spelling of ‘domum redire’ certain that if you spell it wrong something horrible will happen. As luck would have it, you spell it right, or at least you think you did because the symbol hasn’t blown up in your face. As you hand the chalk back to him, it starts to glow. 

 

“You know the drill.” His tone is flat and lacking of humor. “In you go. And try to land on your feet thith time.” 

 

You take in a deep breath and mentally prepare yourself for the same experience you just got through surviving earlier. Unsure of whether to step into it or lower yourself, you opt for just jumping in. You take a literal leap of faith and the ground shifts upside down and you feel like you are falling in reverse. Within a second, a cobblestone floor is beneath you and the magenta sky has vanished. The necromancer bumps into you as he emerges behind you.

You take in your surroundings with a bit of shock, ignoring his bothered grumbles. It wasn’t what you expected. You aren’t quite sure what you expected, but this was definitely not it. The room has rather impressive and expensive looking masonry with a lacquered hardwood ceiling. All the furniture is a dark cherry wood with carved accents. There is a stainless steel kitchenette off in a back corner, half covered by a bar and what appears to be a small living room complete with creepy fur rug and a lit fireplace. A flat TV is hung above it like a painting and it is obviously decked out with the latest gaming shit that is needed for any respectable hardcore geek.

 

Your host disappears around the corner into a back hallway without a word, leaving you standing in the middle of his home, not knowing what to do. You can hear running water and a clatter as something is knocked over. There is a snap, like a magnetic door has been closed.

 

After a few minutes of standing and another lengthy internal debate, you turn and follow down the hall. You don’t have to go far before you reach a small bathroom, the door slightly ajar. The man was bent over the sink running water over his forearm, rinsing away the blood and dirt to reveal pale skin covered in scratches and cuts. His coat and shirt have been tossed carelessly onto the tile floor, to reveal the rest of his pale chest.

 

“Like what you thee?” He teases aptly without looking at you.

 

Your face heats up as you fight the urge to yell again. Asshole... Not taking you fucking seriously. You decide it’s best if you keep your mouth shut, and try to avoid saying anything rash again.

 

“There’th towelth and wath cloth’th in the clothet behind you.” He shuts off the water and dabs the water off his skin with a hand towel. “I’ll go get you thomething to wear.” He tries to squeeze past you in the small doorway and you rub shoulders before you manage to get out of his way. In the hallway he turns into a door on the left and calls out again.

 

“What thize are you?”

 

“Medium.” You call back.

 

Turning to the closet you grab a towel off the top of the stack and return to the sink. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you can see exactly how the journey has worn on you in a few short hours. Your ruddy brown hair is a complete mess with spikes sticking out at odd angles and the bags beneath your eyes are about ten shades darker than they were this morning. There’s dirt all over your face, making you look more tan than you actually are, and wet streaks from where you cried like a baby. You could use a shower actually, but washing up in the sink is the next best thing... and the only thing you have time for.

 

 Deciding to follow suit, you discard your own black long sleeve shirt. It was filthy, caked in dirt and god knows what else that had come off of the body on your car. Turning on the tap, you start to wash some of the grime from your face. The water feels nice as you watch the brown liquid drip off of your face and flow down the drain.

 

Once you finish you turn the faucet back off and dry off with the provided towel. Looking back at your reflection, you sigh. You look a little bit more like your old self. At least you’re not coated with dirt anymore.

 

A formal looking shoulder and arm come into view behind your reflection as you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around and find yourself face to face with an almost stranger. Your kidnapper-host has adopted an earth toned ochre dress shirt with a grey-brown pinstripe vest. The collar is slightly unbuttoned and you can see a silver chain of some kind poking out. He is wearing warm grey dress slacks and black wingtip leather shoes. It all is very slimming on his already slender torso and ass... No. No you will not be attracted to this douchefuck. Stockholm syndrome is not a thing that is happening. You will not fall prey to the charm of his attire or how it fits his stupidly in shape body.

 

“Here.” He hands you a carmine collared shirt, black slacks, and a belt. “I guethed on your waitht thize. We’ll buy you thome clotheth more your thize later.” He pauses, looking you over. “And bruth your hair.” With that, he leaves you alone, shutting the door behind him.

 

You place the dress shirt on the counter and unfold the pants. They were a little long, but honestly you would expect no less from somebody as lanky as him. You slip out of your jeans and fold them, why? Because you fucking can. While you’re at it, you fold your discarded shirt as well. No sense in acting like a slob just because you’ve been kidnapped and are being held against your will.

 

Sliding the slacks up to your waist, you’re actually surprised to find that they fit. The freak guessed right. The shirt’s sleeves were a little on the long side as well. Again, this doesn’t shock you in the slightest. To cope you roll the red sleeves up to your elbows. All in all, once the ensemble is all on, you don’t look half bad. Your hair is still a mess, but even after running a brush through it the strands still defy you. It’ll have to do you suppose. Kneeling down you lace your converse and are silently glad that you chose to wear your black pair. You sigh once more, open the door and walk back out to find the man, who upon closer inspection doesn’t appear to be any older than you. 

 

He’s stretched out across the leather couch, sitting with his arms and legs open, with a phone at his ear, not taking any notice of your presence.

 

“Ith there any way around it?”

 

He pauses, listening to the person on the other line.

 

“Well what am I thuppothed to do with him?Leave him home? He can’t be around the dead.”

There is a cyberesque chuckle from the receiver. 

 

“It’th... no! I already told you Eridan, I’m not killing him.”

 

He growls sounding thoroughly pissed.

 

“Go fuck yourthelf Ampora!”

 

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

 

“No thankth. I’ll manage. Jutht get the paperth okay?” He chuckles halfhearted. “Yeah, you too. Good luck.”

 

He sets the cell on the glass table in front of him and falls back into the couch, leaning his head over the edge. If his eyes weren’t closed, he would have seen you standing there, staring. But, he doesn’t.

 

You clear your throat, to announce your presence. He doesn’t open his eyes and so your fool mouth says the first thing that pops into your head.

 

“The pants are too long.”

 

In truth they were. The hems drag on the ground behind your heels. But, yet again, you find yourself regretting having said anything at all. Sometimes you could be a complete idiot.

 

“I’m taller than you.” He says pointedly.

 

“No shit... as if that wasn’t completely obvious to everyone with eyesight.”

 

He opens his weird as fuck eyes, looking up at you from his upside down perspective.

 

“You clean up nice.” His tone is light and you’re glad he didn’t take offence to your last expletive.

 

The two of you hold eye contact until you feel your face get warm and you look around the room again. Trying to find something else to look at other than the red eye that seems to stare right through you.

 

“Thanks.” You finally reply.

 

You hear him heft himself off of the couch and disappear back into the hallway. After a few minutes, he comes back with a small leather satchel, shoving a chalk box in it. A piece of white chalk is in his left hand as he slings the bag across his chest.

 

“Ready to go?” He asks, but the question feels rhetorical.

 

This is confirmed as he crosses the room to a plain wall and starts... drawing a door on the wall in all its shity, inartistic glory. What the absolute fuck? Is this guy for real? He appears to be as it solidifies into an actual door and he opens it to reveal a blue sidewalk and even bluer street, busy with the bustle of oddly dressed patrons. He turns back to you, motioning for you to hurry through the door.

 

You step onto the strange walkway, careful to avoid running into any of the other pedestrians hurrying in either direction. You turn in time to see the door you walked through close and disappear. Momentary panic pounds in your chest until you spot the honey colored hair already a drift in the sea of people. It doesn’t take you long to catch up and you follow closely behind as the two of you navigate the blue street uphill.


	4. The Fore Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foreshadowing. Foreshadowing as far as the eye can see...

He weaves easily through the crowds of people and you find yourself bumping abruptly into him as he stops in front of a skyscraping cooperate looking building. It appears shiny and silver and clean with no windows, despite being several stories tall. It was even stranger as you entered. The inside of the building was pearly white marble checkered with onyx stone on everything: the walls, the floor, the columns, the light fixtures... the only things that weren’t checkered were pure white and articles of furniture. He walks up to the front desk and smiles at the elderly woman behind it. He takes a card out of his satchel and hands it to her.

 

“Hello Mr. Captor. Are things well with you today?” She asks him cheerily.

 

He shrugs but widens his smile.

 

“Ath well ath they can be.”

 

She nods, handing him back what appears to be his I.D., and types something into her computer.

 

“He has been expecting you. You’ll find him in his second main office.”

 

“Thank you.” He smiles a final goodbye at the woman and she nods warmly in reply.

 

You follow as he starts down the hallway towards some white yet metallic elevators. There are no buttons or floor markers, just the white doors.  

 

“Dean Kankri’th office.” He says aloud.

 

The doors ding and open. The elevator inside appears to be blue lit glass... but there is nothing but void around it in every direction. You look up as you step in and panic. There are also no wires or ropes holding it up. What the fuck is this? The doors close and open. Your escort steps back out into an almost identical hallway, save for the fact that the once white tiles are now as red as your shirt. He hurries you both through another door, and you find yourself in a room too large to be in the tiny office building you thought you were in.

 

In the middle of the room is a single white desk with a man and glass chairs. The man is in what looks like a hooded college robe. You cannot see his face or features beneath the hood, other than his mouth, but something about him seems familiar. He motions you both over as you enter.

 

“Welcome boys. Please, have a seat.” His voice is smooth in an unsettlingly authoritative, yet friendly, way. You can see the corners of his lips turn up in a smile as he beckons the two of you closer. However, the grin is quickly replaced and his mouth becomes an unreadable line.

 

You both sit down and you feel the slip of panic in your already queasy gut.  

 

“Now, Mr. Captor, it has come to my attention that you did not... _complete_... your last task in an appropriate manner that is required for... _graduating_... and I hope you realize the implications.”

 

The necromancer nods solemnly with a grim face. The edges of his mouth are turned down and there is a slight hint of hurt on his face, but it’s a flicker that quickly vanishes.

 

“Yeth. I will not be graduating.”

 

The man nods in a managerial manner.

 

“That is correct and I must say it is rather... _unfortunate_... that you have again... _unsuccessfully_... completed another year. Now I do not mean to alarm you, but I cannot allow such... _lack of success_... to continue unchecked. It has... _dangerous_... implications. That is why the council has decided to... _reduce_... your standing with the university.”

 

Red and blue eyes go wide with shock, his face draining of all color.

 

“You’re... demoting me?” His voice cracks and he flinches, no longer able to keep his cool demeanor.

 

“Sadly, yes.” The man sighs. “You are officially third class as of now and in addition, I have taken the liberty of assigning you a mentor who will... _monitor_... your progress weekly.” The Dean turns his gaze on you. Though his eyes are still hidden by the shroud of the hood, you can feel them as he stares at you. Something about his demeanor seems scrutinizing and almost hostile, though his voice carries nothing more than a curious inflection. You get the feeling he isn’t partial to humans. “Have you chosen a payment method for your debtor?”

 

“I want hith thervitude.” His voice is quiet.

 

The dean tilts his head to the side, displacing the formant cloth of the hood, making the red lining take on a darker, bloody hue. It’s rather unsettling. You imagine him as a bird of prey, an aged and waning vulture scoping out its final meal. The air in the room seems to stiffen, going rigid like the standing hairs of a rilled cat.

 

“Are you certain you want to be in... _a position of responsibility_... for allowing this debt to continue?”

 

Sollux draws a long breath and exhales before answering.

 

“Yeth.” His voice is resigned.

 

The bird of carnage dean straightens, getting back to business. You can feel an angry wave roll off of him, as if he is not at all satisfied with the necromancer’s choice.

 

“You realize you may not receive payment?”

 

Is the dean trying to convince him to choose another option? From what you’ve gathered about how debt works around here you assume the other option will result in your body turning up in a ditch somewhere.

“I do.”

You can hear the conviction in his voice.

 

“Very well.” He says casually, all previous hints of displeasure erased. With a prim sigh, he directs his attention at you, mannerly smile in place. “Do you accept, young man? The other payment method is still open to you, if you so choose.”

 

“Yes.” You nod. “I accept.”

 

Being a servant was by far the prefered option to being dead.

 

The dean’s shoulders tense visibly as if the fact that neither of you are going to choose the other option has managed to piss him off.

 

“Then you are free to walk among us until a time in which you can repay Mr. Captor. And as for you Mr. Captor,” He turns to the forlorn looking guy beside you and stands, coming around to lay a fatherly, if not patronizing, hand on his shoulder. “I am deeply saddened by your recent... _lack_... of performance. As one of our more promising students, I expect more from you. You must maintain yourself if you ever hope to accomplish a leadership position in research. Am I being clear enough?”

 

“Yeth.” His voice breaks again, and he takes in a deep breath for composure. “Yeth.” He repeats with more voice.

 

The dean lets out a small sigh as he tries to bring back his friendly demeanor.

 

“Good.” Giving a final nod he smiles and sits back at his desk. “Please hold onto your seats and have a wonderful day.” You think he almost looks smugly vindictive... wait. Hold onto your seat?  

 

Your brows go up in confusion. Did he just say hold onto your seat? As you contemplate that strange remark, you’re suddenly falling. You curse and shout for the entire five minutes it seems to take you to suddenly appear on the azure street outside. What the fuck just happened?

 

“Fucking shit! How... what...? Just... fuck it. I don’t even care anymore.”

 

You shove your hands into your pockets and cast a glance at your rather upset looking captor, suddenly overcome with guilt. It was your fault he didn’t accomplish whatever it was he had been doing. You hit the stupid zombie goul thing with your car cause you weren’t looking at the damn road. Your current situation could be a whole lot worse. What if you had hit an actual person, you’d be in prison, which you assume to be a worse alternative... maybe? At least you’re not dead. The dean seemed to be pushing for that option. After being demoted and flunked like that, you definitely would have wanted to kill whoever was responsible. The least you can do is apologise.

 

“I’m sorry... for running over your ghoul.” You hope you sound sincere. You were, but your voice often betrays you with sounds of anger or apathy. It wasn’t something you could help. “And thanks, for not killing me... master.”

 

He looks at you with sadness behind his mixed eyes and opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by a sudden cackle behind him. A long haired girl with an eye patch throws a metallic arm around his shoulder.

 

“Master? Oh holy hell. Don’t feed his Doctor Who fantasy. It’s soooooooo nerdy!” The pirate looking girl laughs and pecks his cheek playfully. “Where have you been sexy?” She sing-songs.

 

He shrugs, face carefully blank. She turns a deep blue eye on you and her cerulean lips part to reveal fanged teeth.

 

“Hey! Who’s your friend?”

 

She lets go of him and invades your personal space, inspecting you with a wolfish grin. 

 

Instinctively you go stiff as she pokes and prods. On a normal day you would have started swearing up a storm, insulting her mother and cursing her for her lack of basic courtesy. But, today has been anything but normal. So you sit there and take it. Plus you can practically see her salivating.

 

“Vrithka... get off him.”

 

She turns, glaring at him, and huffs.

 

“Who’s got your pants in a wad _grandma_?”

 

He returns her glare with a stern slit of the eyes and she throws her arms in the air.

 

“Fiiiiiiiine! You’re such a fucking _killjoy_.” She shakes her head groaning as if in the deepest throes of boredom. “Eridan wanted me to give you these.” She hands him a black folder, at least an inch thick. “He says you owe him a drink and dinner.”

 

That gets a smirk out of him. He takes the folder and tucks it into the satchel.

 

“We’re going thopping. Wanna come?”

 

She snorts and thrusts her chin up as if offended.

 

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in a store with _you losers_.” She turns to you smiling and winks. “You’re cute. Don’t let Sollux get in your pants.”

 

He glares at her with bright blushing cheeks and she laughs triumphantly, taking her leave.

 

Your brain struggles with the comment. Why the ever loving _fuck_ would you let your captor into your pants? You weren’t going to sleep with the guy who just fucking kidnapped you, even if he did just save your life in some backhand confusing-as-shit manner. It was just not a thing that was going to happen... _Ever_.

 

“Thpider bitch.” He mutters under his breath. “Doctor Who ith amazing and the Mathter ith the cleveretht villain ever made.”

 

“Does she even watch the show? There’s no way she could smash it if she knew jackshit about it. The writers are brilliant.” You agree.

 

Doctor Who was one of your favorite shows. Of course you were too poor to afford any sort of tv package that had BBC, so you were at a loss as of late. But the episodes with The Master were fucking amazing. Not the best but really good. As you watch the blue girl trot away, something she said makes you think.

 

“Master?” Your voice starts as a whisper but rises with the realization, “As in _The Master_. As in you have been making me refer to you as A FUCKING DOCTOR WHO CHARACTER!!! OH MY FUCKING GOD! I HAVE HALF A MIND TO BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU! This is crazy! You are crazy! This whole goddamned place is crazy! You know what? Maybe I’m the crazy one, and if I hit myself hard enough I can knock myself out and I’ll wake up in a mental hospital! And you’ll be the crazy bastard across the hall who has been stealing my meds and that’s why the street is fucking _blue_! Why the FUCK is the street blue? I can’t even begin to wrap my head around this bull shit! And for future reference-”

 

“KARKAT!” The douchebag formerly known as master takes you by the shoulders and jolts you. “Calm the fuck down. People are thtaring.”

 

He lets out a deep breath and pulls at your sleeve, dragging you to a bright coral bench you hadn’t seen before. You sit next to him and he runs a hand through his honey hair, looking a bit unnerved.

 

“I’m thorry for making you call me mathter. That wath thtupid. I jutht... I wath pithed at you and in the moment it wath funny and I felt like punithing you.” He shrugs. “I really am thorry. Ethpecially for manhandling you in the world of the living. I...” He loses his words and shrugs again, leaning into the arm resting on his knee.

 

You clench and unclench your fist as was customary for you to calm yourself down, and take a deep breath.

 

“I understand.” Another breath. “Had our positions been reversed, I think that I would have done a little more than throw you against a car. And you probably wouldn’t be sitting here talking to me... or anyone... I apologise for exploding like that. I was seeing someone for my anger issues. I’ll try not to make anymore scenes... in public. I can’t promise anything otherwise.”   

 

“It’th fine. I’m bipolar tho it would be hypocritical of me to call you out on that...” He pauses, shifting uncomfortably. “You uh, wanna thtart over?”

 

He holds his hand out to you in the most ridiculous gesture you’ve ever had made at you.

 

“Thollux Captor.”

 

Rolling your eyes, you accept the hand and shake it.

 

“Karkat Vantas.” You grin a little half assed. “Pleasure to meet you Sollux.”

 

He laughs.

 

“I kinda doubt that but thankth for thaying tho.” A slight smirk returns to his face. “Ith there anything you... want to know? Now that the mathter thlave thing ith behind uth?”

 

“Oh you have no idea how many questions I have for you. Let me clue you in, a grand total of five-hundred and sixty-three question as of this moment... and the number keeps growing by the minute.” You lean back against the bench and cross your arms. “But, for starters... Where the hell are we?”

 

“Infernae.” He smiles.

 

“That doesn’t tell me jack shit.” You point up at the magenta sky. “Clearly we aren’t on any part of Earth that I know. So in layman's terms, tell me where you’ve brought me.”

 

“You’re in the underworld. Land of the dead and the home of the reapers.” He places his right hand over his heart in a mockery of the United States.

 

You eye him suspiciously and look out at the passing crowd.

 

“No shit huh? So if I were to ask ‘where the hell are we?’ It would be apropo to say just that. We’re in hell? So to speak.”

 

“What? _No_!” His laugh is full hearty as he completely switches moods again, all traces of the previous despair gone. “Hell ith way different. Trutht me. Thith ith jutht a place for dead people and other things that don’t belong in the world of the living. You’re still on earth. It’th jutht a thub-dimenthion.” He explains.

 

“Ok... I guess that makes sense. Wait, does that mean that _you’re_ dead?”

 

He raises his brows in consideration.

 

“Maybe inthide.” He chuckles. “But no. I’m living for now.” He pauses and the smile vanishes as he realizes something. The same despair crosses over his face. “I gueth I have a few more yearth of life now.”

 

And you’re confused again.

 

“Aaand that’s a bad thing? As someone from the ‘overworld’ or whatever you call it, I don’t quite get why living longer is bad.”

 

“It ithn’t. I’d thtay alive if I could. But to be a firtht clath necromancer, I have to become a reaper. To be a reaper I have to be dead.” He shrugs.

 

“Ok.” Life and death don’t seem to mean quite the same thing, or at least have the same importance, in this place. You decide to let it go. “Well... I guess the only other question I have at the moment is what the fuck is all this magic shit? Portals and doorways and falling chairs? I don’t get how that is all happening?”

 

He shrugs.

 

“I honethtly have no idea. I only deal with animating magic tho, I don’t know how that thtuff workth. It jutht doeth.” He looks away from you like someone called his name. “Are you thure there’th nothing elthe? Thith ith it for open book thethionth. Latht call thaloon.”

 

“Well, since that was a completely shit answer... What is it that I have to do to be able to go back home?”

 

He looks back at you, having slipped into the apt, laid back cool kid demeanor again.

 

“You jutht have to give me a goul of equal value to the one you killed. Unleth I die firtht. The dead aren’t owed debt’th they were owed in life.”

 

You contemplate the thought of being able to somehow get a goul of your own, but you don’t even know where to begin with that endeavor. It’s much more likely that you would have to wait for Sollux to die or be killed. This train of thought could have gotten considerably more complex if it hadn’t been for the shrill ringing now being emitted from your pocket. Pulling the device out nervously you stare at the screen in bewilderment.

 

“My phone works down here?”

 

John’s number flashed on the screen and you had a full signal. What. The. Fuck.

 

“Anthwer it.” Sollux reminds you.

 

You sit there for a second before pressing answer.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Karkat? Where are you? I was expecting you hours ago. I’ve been worried sick! Did something happen?”

 

You look at Sollux who is giving you an amused smirk. He is clearly not going to be of any help to you.

 

“My. Car. I uh... got lost and my car broke down.”

 

“Oh my god! Do you need me to come get you? Why the hell didn’t you call when it happened?”

 

“No. I got a ride home with a guy. I didn’t have a signal.”

 

You really don’t know what to tell him about you being gone for an indefinite amount of time. Maybe you should tell him you were kidnapped. No. That would raise more questions than it would answer. Besides, once they found your car abandoned and with an old corpse there would be some sort of man hunt for you. It was inevitable. Especially knowing John. That loveable derp would tear up the earth for you.

 

“A guy? Just some random guy on the _street_? Did you go back to your place? Oh my god! Is he there? Blink twice for yes... shit, that doesn’t work over the phone...”

 

“No. I... sorta went home with him. Back to his place.”

 

There is a tangible pause.

 

“Karkat that is so fucking _stupid_! You don’t know who the hell that guy could be! He could be a _psychopath_ or something! Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you.”

 

Your hand makes contact with your face. Fucking stupid. How are you going to get him to stop be so concerned? It isn’t like you could just say, ‘Hey I’m stuck in the land of the dead until I can raise a ghoul or this guy I owe a fucking zombie thing to dies. So, you know, don’t fucking worry about me. I’m sure it will only take a few years.’ God fucking dammit.

 

“John, you’re going to have to trust me on this. I am fine. I _will be_ fine. Tell Rose that I said Hi.”

 

“But... _Kar_ kat.”

 

“No. Fuck, John. I’ll see you later. Enjoy your shitty marathon... and don’t choke on your popcorn.”

 

You hang up the phone on a still protesting John Egbert and shove the object back into your pocket, not before putting it on silent. Almost instantly the device starts vibrating again. Clearly John wasn’t going to just leave you in piece. You suppose you’ll just have to ignore him. It isn’t his fault he’s concerned. He is only your best friend. So you had the weekend till people started looking for you. Fantastic.

 

“Everything okay?” Sollux raises a brow at you.

 

“Not exactly. That was a... a friend... from work. We had plans to watch a movie tonight, I was on my way to his house when I hit your ghoul.” You pause to look around at the colorful street. “He suspects that I went home with a psychopath who’s going to hold me captive. Come monday morning, he’ll find out that he was right... Well, to an extent anyways.”

 

Sollux stands up and stretches.

 

“I really want my thirt back. We thould go buy you clotheth before Thtiff’th cloth’th.” He smirks at you with the coy look from earlier. “And my pant’th.”

 

Standing up you itch the side of your face, perhaps in an attempt to hide the blush you could feel wanting to show. You are having none of it though. You are not going to fall for this dickbag’s charm.

 

“Then we should get going. I would like to get into something that actually fits properly.”

 

You stand casually next to him and shove your hands back into your pockets. Trying to make yourself look like you couldn’t care less. But, you’re apparently not fooling anyone because Sollux just laughs at you.

 

“Fuck off.” You growl under your breath.

 

Luckily for you Sollux turns and starts walking down the cerulean road. Picking up the pace you follow him from the bench and into the swarm of people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://kitkat13194.deviantart.com/art/Lost-and-Found-Cover-383745127  
> TK: I drew a cover image of our two lovely protagonists. You should go and check it out. 
> 
> PE: Seriously go look. Do it. My boy Captor be lookin boss like a pimp. ;D
> 
> (We fixed the spacing btw)


	5. The Rose Tyler Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Illness is Timey-Wimey Wibbly Wobbly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween everyone! 
> 
> OoOoOoOoOoo~
> 
> Have a large chapter treat from Tk and me! 
> 
> (so sorry we haven't posted in a while! *hides face* thnx for still reading!)

You dip the blue sponge into the bucket of soapy water again. You have spent the last three hours scrubbing the damn floors of Sollux’s house. The whole ‘servitude’ nonsense has been beginning to wear on you, not that you have the right to complain. You did agree to this bull shit. Sitting back on your heels you admire your work thus far. There wasn’t a speck of dirt to be found, at least none that you could see. 

Looking up at the clock you watch as the minute hand ticks over. Official time of cleanliness 3:26. Sollux should be back soon from his training session. It was pretty much only when he left to go and practice that he had you do any work. Again, you don’t have a lot to complain about. Sollux is a pretty lenient guy when it comes to enforcing the servant crap. But, often times the chores he makes you do are menial house maid tasks, like scrubbing the floor and dusting. One time he made you wash the ceiling because he thought it would be hilarious or some shit. You also suspect that it was just so he could get away with looking at your ass.

 

Aaand speak of the devil.

 

Your ears pop as Sollux ports into the living room. Even from behind the counter you can tell that the training session didn’t go well. There’s a heavy thump as the satchel he uses is probably thrown across the room and collides with the stone wall.

 

“Hey thweetneth! I’m hooooooome!”

 

Sollux is being uncharacteristically loud and boisterous. He almost sounds drunk. Can reapers even be drunk? You’ve never seen a spec of alcohol around here. He’s never been quite so “happy” sounding unless it’s sarcasm followed by a fit of anger and bitching. You sigh, waiting for the rant to come, but it doesn’t.

 

Your roommate strides over to where you are and drops to his hands and knees next to you, eyeballing the floor through a pair of stupid 3D glasses you’re just now noticing. Why the hell does he even have those things on? Fucking weirdo. You eye him warily, unsure of whether he’s about to explode or not. He sniffs it and then does the unthinkable, dragging a quick tongue over the smooth stone floor. He gives it a flippant look of appraisal.

 

“What the hell? You don’t have any idea if that part of the floor is even clean!”

 

It is. But, just the thought of licking the ground grosses you out. Who knows what kind of grime gets tracked into the house with Sollux hanging around dead bodies during the day. And, what if there was still soap there? Certainly ingesting soap wasn’t good for him, even if he wasn’t human. On second thought... let him lick the floor. If he gets sick and dies, it wouldn’t have been you that killed him and you would get to go home.

 

Just then, Sollux’s look of approval switches to disgust. He sticks his tongue out and makes a choking noise. Oh god! You weren’t serious! You don’t actually want him to die!

 

Your worries are dispelled as he sits up and smacks his lips.

 

“Well for once you have a point! That floor ith far from clean. It doethn’t even remotely tathte like lemonth. It tathteth like chemicalth.” He steps over you heading for the fridge.

 

Something seems... off. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but Sollux is definitely not acting like the usual charming douchebag he is.

 

You narrow your eyes as you watch him open the silver door of the kitchen fridge.

“No fuck it tastes like chemicals. That _is_ what you use to clean shit. Actual lemons wouldn’t get your floor sanitary.”

 

You hear him rummage around as you re-wet your sponge and wring it out, wiping at the now saliva covered blemish on your once clean masterpiece. You hear the hiss pop as he uncaps a bottle of what you assume to be his preferred apple-blueberry soft drink because the underworld is full of fucking sweet tooths. He pads back over to you and proceeds to dump purple liquid all over the floor and your hands and your head and... WHAT THE FUCK!?

 

“ _There_!” He exclaims with enthusiasm. “Now the floor thould tathte clean!” He sets the empty bottle on the counter above you.

 

“OH MY FUCKING GOD! WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU DO THAT? I HAVE SPENT _ALL FUCKING DAY_ CLEANING YOUR SHIT OFF OF THE GROUND! DUMPING YOUR SHITTY SODA WILL IN NO WAY HELP THE CLEANLINESS. IN FACT, IT WILL PROBABLY FAIL TO EVEN MAKE THE GROUND TASTE BETTER CAUSE I CAN GUARANTEE THAT NOW THE FLOOR IS JUST GOING TO TASTE LIKE YOU DUMPED SOME FRUITY ASS HORSE PISS INTO A CONTAINER OF FUCKING BLEACH.” You flick your hands in an attempt to get some of the sticky sweet liquid off yourself. “And, at the risk of sounding more gay than I am, I’m pretty fucking sure you just ruined my shirt!”

 

You close your mouth and look up at him, stopping yourself before you manage to spew anymore incriminating sentences all over yourself. You haven’t mentioned the whole ‘being into guys’ thing. There’s no need to give the asshole holding you captive more ammunition to irritate and ridicule you.

 

The fucker takes one look at you and bursts into laughter. He holds his sides and leans against the counter for support.

 

“At a rithk of giving you a _gay_ gasm,” He mocks you with a giggle. “I jutht got you all wet. And with purple drink.” He shakes his head. “I’ll get you a towel.”

 

You let out a shallow breath. He either didn’t realize it was a confession, or he thought you were joking. Either way, you don’t think he’ll be holding it against you.

 

He steps around the mess and heads to the hallway. You grumble under your breath, surveying the sticky mess before you. Not really motivated to even attempt to clean this up, you sit for several minutes waiting for said towel. Ten minutes go buy and you start to wonder. What the hell could be taking him so long? You stand and stalk over to the hall and peek around the corner. The closet door is open and a mountain of white towels and washcloths is piled on the floor, a few loose linens are strewn carelessly further down the hall. You follow them to the one room you’ve never been in, the room that’s always locked.

 

Sollux’s bedroom door is flung wide open. A towel is hanging from the golden door handle. You grab it and peer into the surprisingly bright room. Across from the too large for one person bed, you spy a second door, also left wide open. From it, there is the sound of running water... like someone is drawing a bath. Confused beyond all hell, you venture towards the strange sound to investigate. Inside the master bathroom, Sollux is laying down in a giant claw footed tub, halfway immersed in what looks to be scalding water. His soaked clothes cling to his reddening skin as steam rises in every direction making the air humid and the mirrors foggy. His paper glasses are floating in the bath water just above his legs, disintegrating into a soggy mass of cellulose pulp.

 

“What the hell?” You quickly run over, nearly tripping on his carelessly discarded shoes, and turn the hot water off, hurriedly trading it for cold. “Are you trying to boil yourself alive?!!?!”

 

The exposed skin of his forearms is bright red in the water and his face is a similar shade. It wasn’t like Sollux to be so careless. Sure, he was a bit of a slob, but not a fucking idiot. You reach into the water and pull his glasses out, the water is nearly twice as hot as you thought it was. _Shit!_ How is he able to just fucking sit there in liquid magma?

 

“Get out of the tub! You’ve probably done some serious damage to yourself. There’s no way you haven’t with water _that_ hot. You could poach an egg in there!”

 

He looks up at you and fucking smiles the biggest ear to ear smile you’ve ever seen him wear. Every inch of his face screams innocent dumbfuck who has no clue as to what you’re even talking about. He laughs at you like _you’re_ the one being outrageous.  

 

“I’m fine! I jutht felt a little off. Tho, I decided to take a nap.” He sinks himself deeper into the water, closing his eyes, and promptly returns to ignoring you.

 

Your jaw fucking drops. Take a nap. In boiling water.

 

“Is that something that necromancers do or is there something seriously fucked up with your head? _Sleeping_ in a bathtub full of scalding water is not something even remotely safe! I’m serious, get your ass out of there!”

 

You drop the mush that used to be a pair of glasses onto the nearby counter. Turning back around, you march up to the edge of the tub and shut the water off completely. Sollux looks perturbed by your efforts, but his flushed face lights up again when he sees what you’re holding.

 

“Hey! You have a towel! Do you care if I uthe it? I’ve been looking for one but they’ve all gone mithing.”

 

He places a hand on the side of the tub and hoists himself up, sloshing around the water. It cascades off of him as he rises, causing ripples in the water below. Sollux makes no move to get out of the tub. He just continues to stand in there, waiting for your reply.

 

You glance between the towel in your hand the necromancer in the bathtub. Is he serious? There are towels all over the fucking place! They are out in the hall, in the bedroom, and quite a few are on the floor in front of you. They aren’t missing in any sense of the word. Something is definitely wrong with Sollux. You try to get him to compromise.

 

“I’ll give you the towel if you get out of the tub.”

 

He huffs and bends over to pull the drain plug by its chain, inconvenienced by your ridiculous request. But, he humors you all the same as he gingerly steps out of the bathtub and takes the towel. He rubs it over his dry face and still dry hair, ignoring his sopping body, and then discards it, throwing it into the draining water. He remains soggy as he trods out of the bathroom, leaving behind a trail of puddles in his wake. What the fuck is going on? Nothing he’s doing is making any sense at all. You follow him, creeped out by this odd behavior and wary of what he might do next.

 

Sollux is standing at what looks to be an antique wardrobe, picking out clothes. He decides on a plum colored dress shirt and without removing his wet one, he tries to stick his lanky arm through the sleeve of it with little success. The cotton fabric of it catches on his soaking arm, but he continues to push and wiggle his fingers until it pops out of the cuff. Satisfied, he grabs another shirt, this one a bright burgundy, and starts shoving his other arm into it. After another moment of struggle, and with both shirts on either arm, he unbelts his pants and they fall to his ankles, despite also being soaked. His black boxer briefs hug his lean thighs, making his legs look even skinnier than they usually do. Sollux bends over, pulling at a drawer filled with mesh basketball shorts and sighs in annoyance.

 

“Well fuck. It look’th like my pant’th are mithing too.” He erects himself, scratching his blonde head. “I jutht don’t underthtand it.”

 

“Maybe you should look again... I think I can see a pair.”

 

This is absurd. Is he having some sort of psychotic snap? The Sollux you know wouldn’t pull this shit. There has to be something horribly wrong... wait. You think back on previous conversations over the past month you’ve known him. Didn’t he say he was bipolar at some point? He could be having an episode. Like hell you would know. You’ve never been around anyone with the disorder.

 

Sollux bends over again, and _god dammit_ you wish he would put some fucking clothes back on. You are a little uncomfortable with the fact that the only thing between you and an eye full of Captor is a thin layer of wet fabric. A rather obscene thought sneaks into your mind and instantly turns your face red. You’re relieved when he finally stands back up, shorts in hand.

 

“Could you flip on the lighth?”

 

He nods to the wall behind you, pulling one of his legs out of the crumpled pants around his feet. You slowly cross the room and flip the switch, hoping that will be all the time he needs to cover up his nearly naked ass. When you turn back around, you are glad to find that it is. He is wearing white shorts with a black line down the side. The shirts that were previously on his arms are also discarded on the floor. He is fiddling with the buttons of his damp shirt, halfway to his waste. The phone on one of the bedside tables begins vibrating. He turns to regard it, smiling.

 

“Um... could you anthwer that? I have my handth full.” Without waiting for your response, he turns back around, shedding the wet shirt.

 

You walk over and pick the phone up. The display shows a number, no name. Cautiously, you answer it.

 

“Sollux Captor’s phone...” It sounds stupid after the words come out of your mouth, but that’s how you’re supposed to answer someone else’s phone right?

 

“Kar?” An aristocratic voice with a thick accent questions from the other line.

 

A voice like that is hard to forget and you instantly are able to identify the owner as none other than one Eridan Ampora. You’ve met him a couple of times while you were out with Sollux. He’s only been to the house once since you’ve been here.

 

“Ya. Sollux is kind of busy at the moment. Can I take a message or something?”

 

Eridan isn’t exactly your favorite guy to be around. He’s a bigger flirt than Sollux and not nearly as smooth. He’s also an ass who thinks he has the right to everything and everyone around him. But, you try to keep things civil.

 

“I just need the taxonomy papers for his last assignment. He never came by to drop them off an’ I w-was w-worried somethin’ happened. Either that or Sol’s bein’ a lazy dick again.”

 

“I think he’s having an episode... maybe? I’ve never experienced one so- the fuck do I know? But, he’s definitely acting odd. I’ll be sure to let him know once he can maintain a logical train of thought.” You pause. “Is there something I can do to speed that process along?”

 

“W-well this sucks. He has pills somew-where... or you can call his dad’s friend. He’s a counselor for that sort a’ thing. You could have him bring the papers by too. I’m not takin’ the fall for Captor again. Not even for sex.” Eridan scoffs.

 

“Do you have his number? I don’t even know where to begin looking for shit.”

 

“Yeah hang on... it’s area code (696) 696- 6969.”

 

You had just enough time to pull out a pen and write the number down on your arm, which still happens to be sticky from the spilled soda. Looking at the number, it has to be a joke.

 

“Are you fucking with me? That doesn’t look like a real phone number. It looks like a sick joke.”

 

“Are you insinuating that I w-would fuck w-with you V-Vantas?” He drawls indignant. “W-well, I guess I w-wold if you bought me dinner first. But I’m not fuckin’ jokin’ around. That’s Sign’s number. He’ll help you. And don’t forget the papers.”

 

“Ok. Thank you. I’ll be sure the papers get to you.” And with that, you hang up the phone.

 

You scribble another note on your arm to be sure and get the taxonomy papers before the day is through. As you pick up the phone to call this mystery doctor, something Eridan says smacks you in the face. _Sex?_ The two of them... have had sex? What? No... it was far more likely that Eridan was being his usual perverted self and had merely made another of his twisted jokes. Turning back you look at Sollux, who was currently having a fight with the shirt he was trying to drag over his head, and decide now would be the best time to call for help.   

 

You dial the number in black on the flesh of your arm. It rings once and clicks over to a robotic voicemail.

 

“Tibi Gratias ago pro vocans Homilia Disceserint! Si vis eligere alia lingua horologio nunc. Si constitutio confrimant vocant...”

 

You hear lingua, which sounds like language and based on how these recording usually go, you figured that meant press one for more options. And it does.

 

“Pour le français, composez l’un. Para español, marque dos. For English, dial three...”

 

You press three.

 

“Thank you for calling Dearly Departed! If you are calling to confirm an appointment, dial one. If you are calling to make or cancel an appointment, dial two. If you would like to speak with a secretary, dial three. If you would like to select another la...”

 

You dial three again.

 

“Please hold, a secretary will be with you shortly.”

 

The worst elevator music you’ve ever heard starts and you sigh and sit on the bed, waiting for someone to pick up and relieve you. There is the creak of a door behind you. You whip around in time to catch Sollux stepping into his closet and shutting the cherry wood door behind him. Some light shuffling can be heard over the elevator music and every now and then there’s the bump of him hitting the door or a wall as he maneuvers in the dark closet.  The line clicks over and you are greeted by an overzealous voice of a young woman.

 

“Dearly Departed main office, this is Capri speaking! How can I help you today?”

 

“Uh... Hello. I’m calling on behalf of Sollux Captor.” You hope that his name is enough information, because you can’t remember who exactly you are supposed be asking for.

 

“Oh good! We were wondering when he would be checking in. It’s been too long since his last check-up. Are you calling from Emissary Captor’s office?”

 

Who’s office?

 

“No... I’m calling from Sollux’s house. We’re having an... incident... I think. I really don’t know what’s going on, but I was told to call and ask for ‘the sign’?”

 

There is a lilt on the other end that you assume is her stifled laughter at how stupid you sound.

 

“Bonum!” She catches her breath. “You’re calling for Doctor Vantas. I’ll switch you over to him, one moment.”

 

 _Vantas_?

 

Your heart beats a little faster at the mention of the name. You spent years, after your mom died, trying to find people you were related to. Anyone you could have found would have been better than growing up in the foster care system; but, every other Vantas you’ve encountered has turned out to be a dead end. Your dad died before you were born, you never knew him or his family. Your mom said that she had a falling out with your grandparents when she married your dad, and they disowned her... You never met them either. When you were thirteen years old your mother died. She was hit by a drunk driver. It’s sort of ironic that hitting someone led to you being stuck in the underworld.

 

After the hit and run, you were put into foster care. You spent all of your free time and effort into finding someone to save you from that hell. But, you never did. Which is why hearing your last name, over the phone, floors you but... no. You drop the thought almost as quickly as it came. It never pans out. Every Vantas you’ve ever come across has had no fucking clue who you are and ended up resenting you for being a pushy little insistent nuisance. Why do you even bother anymore? May as well push it from your mind. Besides, the point of this call is your mentally unstable roommate. You don’t say anything as Capri patches you through and more of the shitty elevator music plays, adding a new layer of pointlessness to your lack of hope.

 

The line clicks over.

 

“Doctor Vantas speaking. What can I do for you?” The man’s voice is cheery if not a bit younger than you were expecting. You push the thoughts away and focus on why you’re calling.

 

“Hi, I’m a friend of Sollux Captor’s. I’m over at his house right now, and I think that he’s having a bipolar episode... or a complete psychotic break-” You pause as there’s a particularly loud thump from the closet followed by a colorful string of swears. “I’m at a loss here. I have no idea how to help him, but Eridan Ampora said that I should call you.”

 

“I’m glad you did. I don’t believe I got your name?”

 

“It’s Karkat Vantas.”

 

“I’m sorry, did you say... _Karkat_ Vantas?” The doctor chokes on the last name and coughs.

 

“Yes... Kar-kat. That’s right.” Even down here people struggle with your name. You fight the urge to face palm.

 

“Well,” His laughter is a bit off. It doesn’t sound amused, but it doesn’t sound mocking either. “That’s an interesting name.” He clears his throat. “In any case, I’m glad you called. Where is Sollux right now?”

 

“He shut himself in his closet just before I called. I have no idea what he’s doing in there.”

 

“Has he caused himself any harm?”  The doctor sounds concerned as if he already knows your answer.

 

“I’m not entirely sure... He did sit in a tub of scalding water for a few minutes, maybe five minutes total. I can’t tell if it hurt him. He certainly isn’t acting like it affected him at all.”

 

Doctor Vantas exhales like your revelation has vexed him.

 

“He’s probably been neglecting his medication again. It’s been months since I’ve seen him. Perhaps it would be best if I came over to examine him myself. You don’t think you could get him to pay me a visit, do you?”

 

“I don’t think that I could get him to do anything he doesn’t want to.”

 

You rub at your eye tiredly, also feeling the tax of the situation weighing on you.

 

“I suppose I should come over then.” The doctor agrees. “I have a few things to take care of but I should be there in-”

 

There is a loud _THWACK_ that cuts off your concentration and nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You whip around, pulling away from the phone, and see the door of the closet fling wide open. A courageous looking Sollux bursts through it with a new pair of shitty glasses, a trench coat, and... a blue lighted sonic screwdriver. Dear god... He pulls the sleeve of his coat up. There are a slew of tally marks on his beet red arm. You wince at the sight of what you assume is a 2nd degree burn now covered with permanent marker ink. What the fuck is he doing?

 

He makes eye contact and quickly runs over to you, jumping onto the bed and squatting down as if you were a child. He slaps the phone out of your hand and it goes skidding across the floor.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK!?”

 

Sollux clamps his hand over your mouth and shooshes you with a bony finger.

 

“Quickly there’th no time!” He urges with a remarkably smooth british accent. If you weren’t fucking confused at the moment, his dialect would have really been impressive. “I know thith may come ath a thock to you, but we are in very immediate danger. The thilence ith coming and there itn’t a lot of time to explain. Do you have a name?”

 

You shove his hand away and gawk at him.

 

“You’re kidding me right? Sollux we have lived together for an entire month now, don’t pretend like you don’t know my name!”

 

“I’m tho thorry Rothe. I didn’t recognize you like... _thith_! Oh my, what happened to you?” He laughs in a surprised gasp. “Aw never mind it. We’ll get your body thorted out later. Right now we need to get out of here. It’th not thafe.”

 

He grabs your arm and leaps from the bed towards the hallway, tugging you along.

 

“FUCK!” Your shoulder smacks against the door frame as you’re dragged out into the towel infested hall. “Where the hell are you taking me?”

 

You glance over your shoulder and back at the bedroom. Hopefully the doctor, the real psychiatric doctor, not the character Sollux thinks he is, will show up quickly. With his frantic nature, you aren’t sure what to expect from Sollux. You pray that he won’t drag you out in public like this, there would be no fucking way you could keep track of him in the city streets. As fortune would have it, he stops in the livingroom. Quickly he jumps onto the nearest piece of furniture, a long coffee table, and drags you halfway up with him.  

 

“Madame Kovarian and the thilence have Mickey and your mother. They’re thafe for now. I don’t think they’ll try anything. They’re after me.” He puts a hand on either side of your shoulders. “Rothe, I want you to run. Get to the Tardith and thtay there where it’th thafe.” His glasses have slumped a little down the bridge of his nose and his mismatched eyes beseech you with the saddest look of urgency and caring. He truly looks like he’s concerned he’ll lose you. “Do you underthtand? I need to know you’re thafe.”

 

You honestly can’t believe that you're going to play along with this. There is no way you can leave him alone like this, so you aren’t even about to go to the “tardis” by yourself.

 

“Come with me.” This sounds familiar. “Come back to the tardis with me, we can figure something out together.”

 

You try to show the same concern. It’s a little difficult, seeing as this whole predicament is incredibly stupid. But, you don’t think that it matters. He doesn’t seem to care if you're not accurately portraying the part.

 

He grabs your cheeks, holding your face, and gives you a look of utmost seriousness.

 

“I need you thafe Rothe. Do you underthtand? If nothing elthe, pleathe. Do thith for me.” His face softens to a tenderness you’ve never seen him wear. “I love you Rothe Tyler.”  

 

Sollux suddenly pulls your face into his with the full force of an impassioned lover and you feel his lips crash into yours in all their warmth and softness. He tastes like earth and mint.

 

At first you’re completely stunned. You sit there stupidly and let the fuckass kiss you, if only for a split second. Because the exact _moment_ your brain starts to function, you’re flailing, trying desperately to get away.

 

_Fuck!_

 

You try to push him off of you, but he doesn’t respond. He only kisses you harder. Your ears pop with the familiar pressure change as someone ports into the room, and you go ridged knowing there is a new set of eyes on you. When you stop your struggle Sollux breaks the kiss, looking rather confused.

 

“What’th wrong?” He lisps at you.

 

The question doesn’t really register with your brain. Over the shoulder of his trench coat, you can see a man. For a moment, you think you’re looking into a mirror. A casual mop of dark brown hair sits on top of a light skinned face, dark circles sit underneath his eyes. He stands slighter taller than you but the only major difference you can see between you and the young man across the room is your eye color. Where your irises are the same rich brown as your mothers were, his are a flaming fire truck red. Your jaw drops as the two of you just stare at eachother.

 

“Rothe? There’th thomeone behind me ithn’t there?” Sollux pushes you away hard and whips around a little too fast. “Rothe run!” He shouts. But as he turns in panic, the edge of the table gives way and there is a loud crash as you both lose your footing and fall. You fall into the adjacent couch and Sollux lands on the stone floor with a startled cry.  

 

“Hey!” The doctor calls out, uselessly reaching out his arms in response to the falling ‘timelord’.

 

You sit up quickly and watch the real doctor rush forward to grab the now grimacing Captor. Sollux’s glasses are bent, half hanging from his face. He’s holding himself on the ground, looking near tears, finally registering the burns on his body. The doctor looks from him to you and back as his hands hover over Sollux.

 

“What’s going on?” His eyes are wide but his tone is very professional, if not doctorly.

 

“He thinks that he’s The Doctor and that I’m Rose Tyler. I was going along with it in hopes that he wouldn’t do something stupid and hurt himself.” Looking at the scene before you, you guess it didn’t really work. You run a hand through your hair. “Like he just did... _shit._ ”

 

Dr. Vantas brushes honey blonde hair away from Sollux’s furrowed face and starts tracing some word over his forehead, leaving glowing blue text. Sollux’s rigid body relaxes and he closes his eyes. The doctor takes the broken glasses off of his face and removes his coat. He begins tracing more lines over his now exposed arms and the burns start to recede. He sighs and rubs Sollux’s hair in a fatherly manner. The man turns to you and gives you a reassuring smile.

 

“It’s alright. I think he’ll be fine. This happens every now and then.” He chuckles. “He’s a huge Doctor Who fan. The tenth Doctor especially.”

 

You nod in understanding. The tenth Doctor was exceptionally good, it is easy to see where the obsession may have started.

 

“Doctor V?” Sollux opens his eyes but stays completely still.

 

Dr. Vantas turns back to Sollux and rubs his forehead soothingly.

 

“Hey kid. How are you feeling?”

 

Sollux groans in reply and looks around with his eyes but not his head.

 

“Did you theal me?” He heaves an exasperated sigh. “I can’t feel anything.”

 

“Sorry bud. I had to. Do you know where you are?”

 

“I’m... where’th Karkat?” Sollux sounds panicked.

 

You sit up, not quite wanting to get down on the floor with them incase you might get in the way.

 

“I’m over here...” You don’t know what to say. You have no way of knowing if Sollux is in his right mind yet. If he isn’t you might say something to upset him, not that it really mattered before he fell. He didn’t really listen to what you said.

 

“Thorry.” He mumbles, sounding more agitated than repenting. “I thought you were Rothe... where ith th’he?”

 

“Sollux,” Dr. Vantas pats his face. “Focus on me. Your friend is fine. Do you know where you are?”

 

Sollux closes his eyes.

 

“My houthe.”

 

“Good. Do you know why I’m here?”

 

Sollux doesn’t reply. The doctor feels his neck for a moment and then sighs, standing.

 

“Well, he’s down for the count.” He shakes his head and walks over to you. “Are you alright?”

 

“Ya, I’m fine.” You keep your eyes on the sleeping Sollux. Looking at your doppelganger is kind of freaking you out.

 

“How long has he been like this?”

 

“It’s been almost an hour now.” You glance at the clock. “He started acting funny the moment he got home from his training session, so... like forty-five, fifty minutes.”  

 

“Training session?” The older you sits down a cushion’s length away.

 

“Ya, There was an... issue with his last assignment and the dean makes him see a mentor every week because of it.”

 

“An issue? That’s odd for Sollux. Actually, if I’m not mistaken, he should be graduating soon.”

 

“No, he was demoted.” The guilt washes anew over you, as you think back on that day.

 

“He _what_?” Dr. Vantas gasps. “The dean demoted him? But he’s never...” He trails off, trying to regain composure. You sneak a glance at him. He’s not looking at you, having also opted to stare at Sollux instead. “Well, this is all understandable.” He stands.

 

“I’ll leave some of his medication here with you. Please have him take it when he wakes up.” He hands you a small yellow bottle. “I am sorry I can’t stay longer, but I need to have a word with his father...” He pauses mid sentence, thinking of how to continue. “I’ll be back to check on him tomorrow. This may become regular. I doubt he would agree to come in for treatment.”

You take the bottle from him and turn it over in your hands. It looks like it’s in latin, you can’t read it.

 

“I’ll be sure to do that.” Your gaze falls from the bottle in your hands onto your arm. “Oh! I was supposed to ask if you could run some taxonomy papers to Eridan... Shit, I didn’t get the chance to ask Sollux where they were. I guess that’s not happening.”

 

“Oh uh...” The man is busily scribbling nonsense over a prismatic symbol on the ground with his finger. He seems flustered and in a very sudden hurry. “That’s fine. I’ll speak with the dean... take care of it and whatnot...” He finishes his markings and the portal glows a faint violet. “No worries.” He assures without looking at you. “Vale.” He bids you farewell in Latin and steps into the light, vanishing.

 

You stare at the spot where Dr. Vantas had vanished, and then down at Sollux. The necromancer was fast asleep on the ground, next to the toppled coffee table. Coasters, game controllers, and remotes are now littered across the room. _Fuck_. You are going to have to pick the mess up. And there was still the soda in kitchen, the towels in the hallway, and the mess in Sollux’s room. It would take another couple hours to make sure everything was back in its proper place. You glare down at the sleeping figure next to your feet.

 

“Fuck you. Fuck you very much...”

 

The figure mumbles something unintelligible, lost in sleep, and you sigh with the weight of the work before you. Useless bastard...

 

You should probably get started. If you’re lucky, you’ll be done before your psychotic friend wakes up, giving you time to get his meds ready, because apparently you’re no longer just the slave-maid. Now you are the nurse-babysitter too. Actually? Fuck you too. Fuck everything.

 

_And fuck cleaning!_

 

You smile to yourself as you rise from the couch and step around Sollux. You’re still going to clean, for lack of anything else to do, but the deficiency brings back a sense of normalcy to this all around cockneyed situation. For what it’s worth, expletives always make you feel better.  

 

“Fucking shitty ass douchewaffle.”

 

 _Yep_.

 

You smile.

 

 _Much better_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it mates! ^_^
> 
> TBC!
> 
> If you have any questions you will receive answers! Go here: http://parasitoidEntomologist.tumblr.com/ (I welcome anons as well!)
> 
> Alright alright. TK folds and gets a tumblr too... http://tortoiseshellkelpie.tumblr.com/


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